Left Behind
by Dawnstorm101
Summary: Wanda's reaction to Pietro's death. A healthy dose of Clint's reaction, too. Rated T to be safe.


Wanda fought to keep the drones away, buying time for her brother and the others to save the civilians. This battle was the most exhausted and terrified she'd been since the experiments, but it was also freeing. Her powers had a purpose. _She_ had a purpose. No one was holding her back. She was free to unleash a lifetime of pent-up anger in a helpful way. For the first time, she-

Emptiness pierced through her entire being. A presence that had always been there vanished.

Even before her powers, she had always had a connection to Pietro. She had always been able to sense when he was in trouble, when he was happy. The link had only strengthened after losing their parents and gaining their powers. Even while they were in the throes of being human experiments, it had been there. She turned to it for comfort when Pietro was fast asleep, or on the rare occasions they were separated.

For the first time, she couldn't sense her brother.

 _"I'm not going to leave you here."_

Realization crashed over her. There was only one reason Pietro would leave her: Death.

Grief burst from her as a scream. The weight of being alone for the first time forced her to her knees. Rage pushed her power out in a massive scarlet wave.

The world around her ceased to matter. She cried for her twin, her savior, her other half.

A yell and a crash drew her attention. She stumbled to her feet and followed the noise, knowing the lack of a readable mind meant it was Ultron. She fixated on her brother's murderer with deadly focus. Her power channeled into her hand, vengeful scarlet light twisting around her fingers.

"Wanda…" the half-dead AI murmured. "If you stay here, you'll die."

Slowly, she knelt beside him. When she spoke, her voice was ragged. "I just did. You know how it felt?"

Ultron looked at her, about to speak, but she tore his mechanical heart from his chest. It was ice cold. She watched the red light fade from his eyes. Some people might have flashed a twisted smile; some might have cried. Wanda simply glared, her expression twisted by spite.

"It felt like that," she whispered.

Staring at the dead body, holding the dripping heart, she felt… empty. Her brother had always spurred her on in some way, but now… Pietro was gone. She had no world anymore. She had nothing.

The ground lurched beneath her. She twisted around, horror sparking inside her when she noticed the broken drone by the device.

 _"I can handle this."_

She yanked the drone away, her hands shaking. Had some of her last words to her brother been a lie?

The city shook around her. She hunched over, building a feeble shield against the raining debris. Part of her didn't care if she made it off this rock, but the larger part wouldn't let Pietro die and be remembered only by those who didn't know the intelligent boy who had always taken care of her.

A flash of color in the neutral city made her look up. Vision descended from the sky and scooped her up in his arms. Wanda clutched his cape, fighting not to break down. Pietro had carried her like this a lot; when she was tired, when she was hurt or scared, when she was starving. He had never protested, even when his own stomach was a gaping hole, his own eyes were drooping, or his own body was aching.

She focused on the brisk breeze, then recalled a time when, while they sat in their tiny observation room, Pietro had described how much he enjoyed the wind as he ran hundreds of miles per hour, recalled his wistful tone. She turned her head into Vision's neck and tried to stop thinking at all.

Vision landed on the helicarrier with a gentle _thud._ He set her down. For a minute, they stood on the deck and watched Stark and Thor blow up Sokovia. Wanda muffled a sob with her hand, her heart jolting at all the memories lost. Vision tentatively pulled her into a one-armed hug, guiding her inside. Slightly hunched over, her clothes dusty, her hair mussed, tear tracks staining her cheeks, she fit in with the shell-shocked Sokovian citizens.

"Wanda?"

The last time she'd heard Clint's voice, it had been the tiniest bit shaky, but strong and reassuring. Now it was exhausted, broken… guilty. It took the barest effort to see why.

 _He saw the quinjet coming. Cap leaped out of the way of the bullets, rolling to a halt a few feet away. Clint's instincts urged him to do the same, but he wouldn't risk hurting the boy in his arms. So he thought his goodbyes before spinning around and hunching over the boy, waiting for his doom._

 _It never came._

 _In a split second, he moved behind the shelter of an overturned truck. He straightened up in disbelief, turning around to find what had happened. He froze._

 _"You didn't see that coming," Pietro rasped. Unlike the first two times, it wasn't a challenging question. Now, it was a bittersweet statement. In the echoing silence, he collapsed, pride and regret fading to the emptiness of death. Clint set the boy down to check for a pulse, but his blue eyes were too blank._

 _Too blank._

Wanda stared at him. "Clint…?"

"I-I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Wanda's hand erupted in scarlet power. Vision quickly stepped in front of it, resting a calming hand on her shoulder. Clint backed up a step and raised his hands.

"I was protecting a little boy. If your brother hadn't moved when he had, I'd be dead. I… I know it's not much, but he died a hero," Clint consoled softly.

The scarlet flickered and died as she slumped against Vision. "I don't want a dead hero. I want my brother back," she breathed.

"Here," Steve said, stepping out of the hallway. He handed Clint a damp towel, and the archer began scrubbing at his bloody hands. Wanda dropped her gaze to them, realizing whose it was. Vision held her, his efforts to comfort her awkward at first, slowly growing more natural as the foursome stood there.

After Clint had mostly finished and Wanda had regained some composure, Steve spoke again. Even his voice sounded hollow from loss. "I can… Fury set up a private room for the- for Pietro."

Wanda's gaze snapped to him. In response to the silent demand, Steve headed back down the hallway. Vision half-led, half-supported Wanda as she followed on stumbling feet. Clint hesitated before following, still absently rubbing his hands. After many rights and lefts and descending, after passing through a group morgue for the civilians who had died after boarding the helicarrier, they reached a tiny room. The other three stepped back, forming a half-circle to block the door from view, as Wanda hesitantly opened it. She stepped inside, taking a deep breath before pulling the sheet back.

Someone had cleaned his face. His skin glowed translucently, clear of the dirt and blood she had witnessed in Clint's memory, his face radiating a faint sense of peace. Wanda brushed her fingers along his cooling cheek, reaching out to him one last time. Her mind met with a resounding emptiness. Her brother was gone.

Wanda fell to her knees. With one hand, she fumbled to free Pietro's from the sheet, clutching the heavy appendage that had only yesterday, and every day before that, stroked her hair, held her close, as he whispered that she was safe, that everything would be ok. Tears poured unrestrained down her face as she pressed her lips against the back of his hand, whispering over and over, "I love you. I love you, big brother."

For a brief moment and an eternity, she knelt by her brother's body, clutching and sobbing into his hand. Then warm, hesitant, strong hands rested on her shoulders. Clint crouched beside her, tears glistening in his own eyes. He reached into his suit and pulled out a tattered picture of a woman, a boy, and girl.

"Without your brother," he murmured, "my wife would be a widow, left to raise our three kids without their father. My unborn son would never have known his father, and I never would have known him. I will never stop being sorry for taking him from you, but I can never thank him enough."

Clint folded Pietro's limp fingers around the picture.

"My family can never replace your brother, but I was… I was wondering if, maybe, for a day or two, you'd like to stay at my farm, and- I don't know, meet one of the families Pietro stopped Ultron from ripping apart. I-it might help, at least a tiny bit."

Keeping his fingers together, Wanda replaced her brother's hand. "I'd like that," she whispered.

After the helicarrier landed, Steve, Tony, Vision, and Clint bore Pietro's coffin outside, Wanda following in their wake. To Wanda's shock, every Sokovian citizen who could lined the halls. They whispered simple things like "Thank you" and "Goodbye" as they passed, nothing but saddened gratitude radiating from their minds, alongside images of loved ones saved by a pale blur. A few saluted Pietro, a few expressed their condolences to Wanda. Their sincerity lightened the weight on Wanda's heart, enough for her to respond with a weak but genuine smile.

Once the coffin was loaded into a hearse, Clint returned to her side. She threw her arms around him, buried her face in his shoulder. His hands came up, one arm wrapping around her back, holding her tight and close, one hand resting in her hair. She burrowed into the paternal security of Clint, crying, this time, in bittersweet joy that his sacrifice would be remembered, that everything her brother had endured hadn't been for nothing.

"It'll be ok," Clint whispered into her ear.

Wanda nodded. "I know." She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. "I'm… I'm kind of glad he saved you."

Clint chuckled. "Kind of?"

Wanda's ears burned. "I- well- you know-"

Clint shook his head. "I know." He glanced towards where Natasha had appeared, her expression haggard; Steve headed over to her.

"What do you say we go home?"

Despite everything, hope flickered inside her. _Home._ It was something Pietro had always tried to find for her.

 _I'm going home, Pietro._

From across the field, she detected a pulse of memory from Steve.

" _So this is S.H.I.E.L.D.?"_

" _This is what S.H.I.E.L.D. is supposed to be."_

Wanda glanced at the supersoldier. He nodded.

 _You left me in good hands. I don't have you, but I don't have nothing, either._

 _You can rest in peace, my beloved brother._

* * *

 _Castles – they might crumble_

 _Dreams may not come true_

 _But you are never all alone_

 _'Cause I will always,_

 _Always love you_

* * *

A/N: The song is _In My Arms_ by Plumb. I hope the lyrics work – I had a hard time choosing between _In My Arms_ , _Tears of an Angel_ by RyanDan, _Carry on Wayward Son_ by Kansas, and _My Immortal_ by Evanescence.

Sorry if the humor is ill-placed or ill-timed or somehow detracts from the overall mood, but I tried to follow Joss's advice of "Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke."

I've never cried writing a fanfic before, but while writing Clint talking about his family… I couldn't not cry. I've never even cried while watching Pietro's death (heck, this is the first fanfic I've written where I've actually _acknowledged_ that Pietro is dead) – the first time it was just so unexpected, the second and third times I wanted to, and the fourth time my friend distracted me by patting me on the shoulder and saying "It's ok" (and I slapped his hand away for ruining the moment). I hope this stirs something in you guys, too.

(And if you're wondering how Steve heard from across the field, I don't know how good his supersoldier hearing is. And I may have taken some liberties with Wanda's powers, too - I understood and remember Hill's explanation about as well as Steve did. I also may have exaggerated the bond of twins - being an only child, I don't really know anything about that beyond what I read, hear, see, and infer.)

And thus ends the somewhat insecure rambling that I can't help no matter how many good reviews any of my stories get.

Remember, favorites and reviews make an author very, _very, **very**_ happy.


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